


A Matter of Convenience

by masulevin



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hair-pulling, Masturbation, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: Tensions run high when all the surviving members of the Sheriff Department have to share a bunker after a nuclear war. Mattie proposes she and Staci help each other out.





	A Matter of Convenience

**Author's Note:**

> Just one of my elaborate AUs so Mattie can bone all the people I want to bone.
> 
> [Talk to me on Tumblr](http://ma-sulevin.tumblr.com/).

Some things are nice about living in a bunker with the surviving members of the sheriff’s department. There are no Seeds trying to kill her, she can nap whenever she wants, and there’s a distinct lack of insects trying to bite her or crawl down her shirt.

Some things about living in a bunker with the remaining members of the sheriff’s department are not so nice. There’s not quite enough food to last them as long as they’d like, and rationing doesn’t take into account the occasional hunger pangs that come with perpetual boredom. The lack of privacy is the other big one -- there’s just not enough space for everyone to get the alone time they need.

And  _ boy  _ do they all need alone time.

If they time it out just right, they can all hang out in separate spaces during the day, spread out through the bunk room, common room, kitchen, and the room Whitehorse claimed, and that helps a lot when tensions start to run high.

Really, though, the biggest need for privacy comes at night, and with several twenty-something adults sharing a bedroom…

Mattie’s gotten pretty well used to ignoring sounds that come from the other bunks in the middle of the night, little grunts and moans and stuttered breaths not the least of them. Tonight, though, she’s wide awake and the noises coming from Staci’s bunk are…

Well. They’re muffled and super quiet, and she probably can only hear them because she’s only like four feet over his head on the top bunk, and she’s still awake like an hour after she’s usually passed out, but… 

God, they’re desperate, choked off noises, needy whines and bitten off moans that have her wet and frozen in place on her bed. If she tries to touch herself now, he’ll definitely notice, but if she has to wait until he  _ finishes  _ and then falls asleep…

She can hear his breath catch and then loose in a rush. She misses being the one to cause that noise, to wrangle those gasps and moans from a partner’s throat. Across the room, Joey’s snores catch too, then get louder for a second before evening out. Under Rook, Staci’s movements momentarily stop, then resume when it’s clear Joey’s not waking up.

You know what? Fuck it.

She rolls over before she can lose her nerve, sticking her head over the side of the bunk in time to catch Staci with his eyes closed and head tipped back. She can’t see what he’s doing under the covers, but the motion of his arm is absolutely unmistakable.

“Stace.” She’s quiet, trying to get his attention without waking up Joey, his name more of a hissed exhale than anything else, but it still makes him go absolutely still even as his eyes pop open wide. She can see the way his lips are pressing together, thinning out in embarrassment in the low light of the electric clock on the wall, but she’s willing to bet he can’t see the expression on her face at all. “Having fun down there?”

“Fuck you.” Okay, so maybe embarrassing him more right off the bat isn’t the best way to get what she wants out of this situation, but that’s their thing. All three of them, they needle each other constantly until Whitehorse tells them to quit acting like kids.

And, anyway, he doesn’t sound  _ mad. _

“If you want, but I was going to suggest something else.” He blinks at her, silent, and she tries again: “I have a deal for you. I’ll suck you off if you eat me out after.”

He’s still just staring at her, but this time his lips part on a sharp inhale. Bingo.

“Figured that would be more fun? Unless you want to jerk off by yourself for the, like, third time this week.”

“I haven’t--” he starts, then he stops and huffs, because yeah. She said it like a joke, but this  _ is  _ the third time this week he’s jerked off, and she knows it because they share a room and it’s easier to jerk off after everyone goes to sleep than to try to be fast during their rationed showers. “You really want to?”

“Hell yeah,” she says, watching as his confusion starts to give way to excitement. “I’m dying up here.”

Joey snores loudly, and they both turn to look at her bunk. She shifts in her sleep but doesn’t wake up all the way, so Rook turns her attention back to Staci.

“What do you say?”

Under normal circumstances -- circumstances where she was picking up a guy at a bar or something and not proposing a sexual exchange in the middle of the night in a bunker after a nuclear war -- she’d consider his hesitation something of an insult, or maybe a sign that he has a girlfriend somewhere else. Here, though, she knows Staci’s just thinking through the options available to him, and she can wait patiently, if… damply.

“Uhh. Okay, sure.”

Staci sits up, the blanket still over his lap and one leg bent on the bed, and he waits for her to slide off her bunk before he stands up too. She grabs his hand and leads him out of the room on bare feet, tugging him after her until they’re in the bunker’s little common room that will hopefully remain abandoned until they’re done with each other.

He hovers a little awkwardly, hands clasped in front of his crotch because he’s still hard and trying to hide it for some reason, and she offers him a little smile of reassurance before pushing him down onto the couch. He stumbles a bit and lands hard on the cushions, a stuttered gasp leaving his lips when she kneels between his legs and goes right for the waist of his sweatpants.

“Good?” she asks, she has to ask, has to make sure he wants this even if it’s really just a matter of convenience and lack of other options. He shifts his hips up as he nods, shoving his sweatpants down his thighs. She helps him, pulling them the rest of the way down so he can kick them off, and then she licks her lips in an unplanned reaction to seeing his dick for the first time.

“Yeah, uh, yeah. You good?” His voice actually squeaks when she wraps her hand around him, thicker than she thought he’d be, uncut, a delightful temptation that she’s sure she’ll be indulging in as often as he’ll let her.

She makes eye contact as she starts to stroke him, getting wetter when she sees him squirming. “Yeah? This was my idea.”

He doesn’t say anything else as she leans down and licks the tip. At his sharp inhale, she settles more comfortably on the floor between his legs and takes him fully in her mouth. She doesn’t bother teasing, just goes for broke right off the bat. He’d been teasing himself before all this, and she’s already desperate for it.

Based on the wounded noises Staci’s trying to muffle, she made the right call.

She can get most of him into her mouth, and she does a few times, just to make him nice and wet so her hand will glide over his soft skin, before she focuses the attention of her lips and tongue just on the tip and lets her hand do the rest of the work. Her free hand moves to his balls, rolling them between her fingers before looking up at him to gauge his reactions.

His mouth is open and his eyes are closed. Each breath punches its way out of his lungs, and the way he’s gripping the couch cushions in his fists would make her think he’s in pain if he wasn’t making little rocking motions into her mouth each time she starts to pull away.

“You can participate,” she says, hands still working while her mouth takes a break. Her lips and chin are wet, and that’s where he stares when he finally opens his eyes. She licks her lips on purpose this time and he shudders, then he tears his attention away and looks right into her eyes. She nods at him, gives him another slow stroke, and then holds his gaze as she lowers her mouth back to his dick.

As soon as her tongue touches his skin, his hands are in her hair, pushing the curls back from her forehead and tangling his fingers in the strands. He tugs her head down, pushing her to move faster, and she does with a little moan, squeezing her eyes closed and holding him a little tighter.

“You like this.” His words are quiet, hissed between grunts of pleasure, something like surprise lacing them. She opens her eyes again to he’ll know she’s listening, and he continues. “You  _ like  _ it. How long have you been wanting to do this?”

She blinks slowly at him, sort of torn between amusement and arousal at his words. Because, yeah, of course Staci’s mouthy during sex, what else was she expecting? He was a little shit before everything went down in Hope County, and nothing Jacob did was really able to change that, deep down. And, yeah, she does like this, and honestly she’s kinda been wanting to do it for a while, and when he hits the back of her throat once more and his next question is cut off into a bitten-off groan, she’s not sure why it took her so long to suggest it.

“Fuck, God, your mouth feels so good.” He moans again, using his grip on her hair to encourage her to move faster. “ _ Shit.  _ I’m gonna come, you’re gonna make me come.”

She makes an affirmative noise, an  _ mhmm _ as clear as she can with her mouth stuffed full of his dick, tries to relax her jaw and use her tongue to tease him at the same time. His legs move restlessly on either side of her head, heels digging into the concrete floor of the bunker, pushing as deep as she’ll let him. 

He’s desperate for it, groans coming from deep in his chest, hands too tight in her hair. It’s probably been months since someone, anyone, has touched him like this. He moans her name and she’s suddenly absolutely sure there will be many repeat performances before the surface world is safe again and he can choose another partner.

“I’m, I’m,  _ fuck, _ ” he says, and lets go of her hair in favor of gripping the couch cushions again. He thrusts hard into her mouth and she holds on, feeling the first spurt of his release hit the back of her throat even though she had plenty of time to pull away and let him finish on himself. 

It’s bitter, but she doesn’t care, swallows it anyway because that’s easier than trying to make it to the bathroom sink, leans back to stretch out her shoulders. She rests her hands on his thighs, trying to calm him down from where he’s a gasping, sweaty mess in front of her.

Fuck, that was hot. 

This was a great idea.

“You doin’ okay there, Stace?” She drums her fingers against his thighs, rising up onto her knees instead of sitting back on her heels. Her thighs are cold when she moves; she’s so wet she’s dripping. It makes her shiver, bite her lip, and that’s what Staci sees when he finally lifts his head to look at her.

“ _ Fuck _ , Rook.” His curse is heartfelt, and he grabs her chin to pull her face to his for a kiss that immediately turns wet and sloppy. She’s surprised into a moan, climbing into his lap in answer to his tugging hands on her hips, enjoying more contact than she expected when she offered what she meant to be a simple exchange of services.

_ Sexual  _ services, but still.

He picks her up and turns her, an almost-awkward tangle of limbs until she’s flat on her back and he’s breaking the kiss to sit up and pull her sleeping shorts down and off.

She spreads her legs as wide as is comfortable so he’ll have room to settle between them, letting one foot rest on the floor and hooking her other calf on the back of the couch. He smirks at her --  _ smirks  _ at her, like he hadn’t been so desperate for her mouth just a minute ago -- and brushes his thumb across her slit.

She twitches and makes an embarrassing noise, kind of a growl, baring her teeth when she realizes he’s going to tease her instead of just going to town like she wants, like she did to him.

His smirk just grows. “You get this wet just from sucking me off?” He brushes his thumb against her again, and this time she manages not to react to the sensation.

“Maybe it’s from listening to you fuck your fist three nights in a row like a goddamn teenager --  _ hng _ .” He presses his thumb harder against her, right against her clit, and she can’t help the choked off noise that stops her teasing. She tilts her hips towards him and finishes the thought: “Didn’t anyone tell you you’d go blind doing that?”

He leans forward and braces himself on the arm of the couch, giving her the perfect view of his bicep if she was able to look away from his stupid face. “You’re one to talk,” he says, rubbing his thumb in a tight circle. His gaze drops to her lips when she gasps, then returns to her eyes. “I can hear you on the top bunk, moaning all pretty and begging  _ please  _ before you come.”

He’s got two fingers in her now, moving in a steady rhythm with his thumb, and she can  _ hear  _ how wet she is. 

She wants to argue that she  _ doesn’t do that  _ before she remembers he’s talking about last week when she’d gotten a little too carried away, had finished and then been terrified that one of them had heard her. Joey’d still been snoring, but Staci is a quiet sleeper. Obviously he’d been awake.

She moans instead, arching toward him, reaching up with one hand to wrap around his wrist by her face. “Stace…”

“You gotta ask better than that. I know you can.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes still glued to her face, and presses a kiss to the side of her knee. “C’mon, let me hear those pretty noises.”

She knees him in the nose, not quite hard enough to really hurt. “This is how you treat me after I give you the best blowjob of your life?”

“You think that was the best blowjob of my life?” He leans in closer, bending his elbow, out of range of her knee in case she gets more ideas. “You think awful highly of yourself.”

It’s getting harder to come up with snappy replies, harder to keep from moaning out loud, but she’ll be damned before she gives him whatever satisfaction this is he’s looking for. 

She sucks in a deep breath before she starts to speak, almost loses it when his hand starts to move faster, fingers insistent against both her g-spot and her clit, and if she knew he’d be this good at fingering her she’d definitely have stopped doing all the work herself weeks ago.

She manages to pull herself back together to throw some sass back in his face: “So you’d rather me think you always come that fast than admit I’m good with my mouth?”

He stops moving his fingers, mouth dropping open a little as he freezes in surprise, then he’s kissing her to muffle his laughter. She smiles against his mouth as she kisses him and threads her fingers into his hair, longer now than it was when they took shelter here, and then she bites his lower lip and pushes his head down.

“We had a deal, Stace. Come on.”

He kisses her once more, still snickering under his breath, and then he’s shuffling down the couch to settle his shoulders between her thighs and finally  _ finally  _ hold up his end of the bargain.

He starts moving his fingers again, a delicate motion that makes her squirm against his mouth, but that doesn’t even hold a candle to how goddamn good it feels to have the point of his tongue against her clit.

She hisses and buries her fingers in his hair, holding him against her like he did to her, and  _ tugs.  _ He groans, so she does it again, and he starts to move faster in a silent answer.

“Is this all I had to do to make you shut up?” she gasps out, half sitting up so she can stare down at him. His eyes reflect the bunker’s emergency lighting back at her when he looks up, and she tugs on his hair. “Next time I’ll just,  _ fuck,  _ I’ll just sit on your face.”

He groans again, squeezing his eyes closed. She collapses back on the couch and pulls her lower lip into her mouth, biting down on it to stay silent. As embarrassing as it would be for Joey (or, Christ, God forbid _ Whitehorse) _ to catch them working things out on their own, catching them basically fucking on the couch would be a million times worse.

Having bare asses on the communal couch is  _ definitely  _ a roommate faux pas. 

As happy as he was to tease her earlier, Staci seems to have decided to try to get her off faster than she did him. He’s working her like he’s just been waiting for the chance, fingers pushing just right and tongue moving so hard against her clit she’s sure he’s going to get tired before she manages to come.

Even with the lingering nervousness and embarrassment at letting Staci eat her out in the middle of the bunker, the pleasure is too sharp to be ignored. She rocks against him, grinding against his mouth and catches each moan in her throat before they can force themselves out into the quiet air around them. Still, the sounds are obscene, her body heating up, sweat starting to pool behind her bent knees, her looming orgasm a tight coil in her stomach that’s growing tighter and tighter and  _ tighter and -- _

“Stace!” She whispers his name, almost too quiet for him to hear, and then comes silently, thighs trembling on either side of his head and hand holding his face against her. Fuck, it’s so much more intense than when she’s by herself, so much harder to stay quiet, and she’s not sure her legs are going to stop shaking in time for her to walk back to her bunk.

Staci continues licking her through it, moaning against her, until she has to push him away before it all starts all over again. He sits up obediently, letting her legs drop at his sides, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s hard again, still turned on, and she watches his dick with a kind of quiet fascination so intense that she almost misses his next words.

“I really want to fuck you.” He reaches down and strokes himself absently, using his wet hand, the one that had just been inside her. “Was thinking about it… before.”

Oh. Well. Shit.

She sits up a little and pulls her shirt off, letting it drop to the floor with their pants. His eyebrows lift, but he follows suit. She sees his eyes dip down to the WRATH tattoo, touches his bicep to distract him.

“Tell me about it,” she says, voice low, pulling him into her space. She bumps their noses together. “What were we doing exactly?”

He tries to kiss her, but she tilts her chin away from his, pressing their foreheads together instead. He grunts, then sighs, then leans forward to nip at her earlobe. His hair tickles her face as he says, “I had you on your stomach on the bed, legs together, face in the pillow.” He pauses as she moans, pumping himself one more time, harder than the last. “But now I know you’re a mouthy shit, I might pull your hair so I can hear you.”

“You always knew I was a mouthy shit, asshole,” she says, but there’s no anger in her, no venom in her words. The only thing she can feel right now is  _ want.  _ “You  _ have  _ to pull out, or this is never happening again.” It’s dangerous, but she trusts him, she  _ needs  _ him.

“Of course, yeah, fuck yeah, I will. Turn over.” He grabs her chin despite his words and kisses her soundly, their teeth knocking together in his impatience, then he kisses her again in an apology. She turns when he releases her, his hands on her hips to help guide her, and props herself up on her elbows as he straddles her thighs. “Your ass is fantastic.”

“Focus,” she says, though she smiles at his words, shifting under him when he grabs her ass with both hands. “Come on, give it to me. I know you want to. Show me how good you are.”

He pushes between her thighs, guides himself into her with slow, shallow thrusts, then leans over her with his arms on either side of her, pushing into the couch cushion. She lets herself relax, breath coming in short gasps as she stretches to accommodate the thickness of him, his weight a comfortable one on her back. He nuzzles at the back of her neck for a moment when he’s as deep inside her as he can get, then he bites the meat of her shoulder.

It’s her only warning before he starts to thrust.

She knows the noise she makes is almost pained, but she feels nothing but pleasure as he pulls partway out and then pushes back in, her body accepting him without trouble. Her elbows give out and she relaxes boneless onto the couch, face pressed into the cushions even though Staci had specifically said he wanted to hear her. She bites hard at her tongue, tries to push up with her knees to change the angle, gives up and just squirms with pleasure too bright after her last orgasm.

Staci grunts each time he fills her, each time his hips press into the ass he was just admiring, pressing little kisses and nipping bites against her neck and shoulders as he moves. Just when she’s sure he’s determined to leave marks all over her so she’ll have to hide them from Joey, he props himself up with his hands on the arm of the couch and moves his hips at a steady, punishing pace.

Christ,  _ fuck _ , this isn’t quiet anymore. They’re going to hear them. Any minute now Whitehorse is going to open the door to his room and catch them fucking, catch his youngest deputy balls-deep in the rookie. Or Joey’s going to walk out and catch an eye full of Staci’s bare ass as he fucks her hard enough to make the couch rattle.

It’s enough to make her toes curl, to make her push her hands against the couch arm to hold herself steady under Staci’s harsh thrusts, tries to angle her hips a little better and--

“Fuck, yeah, there,” she says, voice rough. Staci growls behind her, and she clenches her jaw so hard she’s almost afraid she’ll crack a tooth until she can’t think about anything more than the fact she’s about to come without anyone touching her clit.

She holds absolutely still, doesn’t even breathe, eyes squeezed shut and entire being focused on the too-tight coil of pleasure building inside her. Part of her wants to get away, to stop this before it can end, afraid of how intense the fall will be, but the other part of her…

Well.

The other part of her can’t think about anything else, and then she’s coming, face pressed into the couch cushion and hips jerking helplessly under Staci. She can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything other than let the pleasure white out her vision as it crashes over her.

He fucks her through it, hissing, “Fuck, that’s hot. Yeah, come on my dick, just like that.” His rambling cuts off as he grunts, starts again, “Okay, okay, yeah, I’m gonna come too,  _ fuck _ .” 

He pulls out as she goes limp under him, keeps himself propped up with one hand as he jerks himself with the other, giving himself the final push he needs to go over the edge. He comes on her sweat-slick skin, marking her lower back and ass, groaning through clenched teeth.

“Fuck.” He leans down and kisses her back again, just where he bit her, a gentle movement that makes something funny pinch in her chest that she doesn’t want to think about.

He doesn’t linger for more than a moment, sitting up and padding to the bathroom on bare feet. She waits, still trying to catch her breath, until he comes back with a damp washcloth and wipes her clean.

She smiles when he’s finished and slides off the couch, kneeling on the floor until she’s sure she can stand without falling over. Her legs are shaky and she catches Staci smirking at her before his face disappears behind the fabric of her sleeping shirt she’s pulling over her head.

“Well,” she says, running her fingers through damp hair. She’s absolutely sure she smells like sex, and the couch probably does too. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

Staci snorts, but he’s still grinning at her. He bumps his shoulder into hers as he steps past, just like he always used to at the Sheriff’s department. “I’ll check my schedule and let you know.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs anyway, lets him go back to the room they share by himself.

What an asshole.

**Author's Note:**

> Not pictured: Mattie spraying Febreze on the wet spot on the couch and Whitehorse absolutely scarred for life in the other room.


End file.
